


Tears in the Night

by hyperius



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Depressing, Emotional Hurt, Hopeful Ending, Jason Todd Has Issues, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Jason Todd-centric, Jason is depressed, at least hopeful, or sort of happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:47:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29983083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyperius/pseuds/hyperius
Summary: He was taken to stand between the Golden Boy and the sword, taking hit after hit so he wouldn’t have to. He was the dark to their light, and the tears to their smile. He was the one to walk the shadows so the others can play in the sun.He’s over it.
Relationships: Batfamily Members & Jason Todd
Comments: 9
Kudos: 122





	Tears in the Night

**Author's Note:**

> So I didn’t actually edit this so :) sorry if there’s mistakes

The problem with the family is that no one listens. No one listens to the pain or the stress. Feelings are invalidated as quickly as the super villains escape from Arkham. It hurts more, though, than any blow from a crowbar. He doesn’t know why, but it’s a lingering pain. One that sits heavily in his stomach as he lies in bed, longing for sleep that can’t break through the panicked anxiety and stress rumbling in his brain. Why don’t they believe him? Why can’t they feel for him as they do others? What about him makes them... not care? 

He rolls onto his side, staring blankly at the wall as if he’s watching his past play out; memory after memory of where he could have gone wrong, looking for any explanation to why they act so coldly to him now. Has he not being being the good little soldier Bruce has always wanted? Has he not been jumping through every hoop and obstacle they put in his way? 

Would anything be enough? 

Maybe he was never enough. Maybe every time he thought he’s broken through has only been to keep him obedient, hoping and praying he’d actually be welcomed back as he misses the way they all laugh at him and his foolishness - how stupid he is to fall for their tricks. Maybe every friend he made was just a plot in a bigger story, he’s gotten all of Dick’s leftovers, after all. Maybe they’ve only befriended him to get closer to him. Maybe he’d forever be the one left out; the one no one actually wants. The one who looks at every group chat, waiting for a moment they can speak up but always afraid when they do they’d end the conversation - the one who tries to start a conversation no one ever joins. The one who tries to make his way to the middle of the friend group, but is always pushed to the edge. The one who knows he’s never wanted but tries. Tries. Tries so fucking hard, and never succeeds. 

He feels his breath hitch and eyes burn, turning his face so his pillow catches his tears. 

He hurts. He hurts so badly but how could he? They tell him he has nothing to worry about. They tell him it’s all in his mind and it’s driving him crazy. He just wants to - wants to - fuck. He just wants them to listen. He just wants to be heard, acknowledged, and maybe even validated. 

But he’s too smart to ask for all of that. He’s too smart to ask for the impossible. 

He closed his eyes, forcing himself to take steady breaths as he brings himself back together. He knows it’s only a bandaid on a gaping wound, and he knows he’s going to break open and bleed all too soon, but it’s enough for now. It’s enough for him to re-enter the present and escape from the past. He flopped onto his back, away from the wall of memories to look up at the blank ceiling. His ceiling, void of any life or color, cracked through it’s neglect and age.

He heard a little ping. He looked to his side, reaching for his phone with a little huff. He hates that he gets excited every time he gets a message. He hates how there’s always a little bubble of hope: maybe someone wants to actually hang out with him? Invite him one-on-one for something not mask related. Maybe, just maybe, it’s a call for friendship rather than work. 

And once again, that little spark of hope is crushed. A message from Dick, telling him to meet in the batcave that night. Another mission. Another call for him to be a good little soldier. 

He doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to be A Good Soldier. He wants to be a son. Dammit, he just wants to be a son again. Two moms, two dads, none of them wanted him. Sure, Catherine was the one who loved him but he’s not naive enough to think she actually wanted him. Bruce... he thought, for a long time, he was wanted and loved by that man. He knows better now. Sheila and Willis are obvious - they made no attempt to hide their contempt for the boy. He just doesn’t understand, though. What did he do wrong? _He was born_. Yes, yes, isn’t that the ultimate problem with his life? Since day one, when he was birthed into this dark and cruel world, he was a target for misfortune and hate. None of his parents wanted him, so why would anyone else? Anything else? At every step of the way the universe was telling him he was a punching bag, and he wouldn’t even be lucky enough to stay dead. 

No, he was born to capture the evil so the others won’t have to face it. He was there to stand between the Golden Boys and the sword, taking hit after hit so they wouldn’t have to. He was the dark to their light, and the tears to their smile.He was the one to walk the shadows so the others can play in the sun. 

He’s over it. 

Why should anyone have to suffer so others don’t? Why should he have to struggle every morning to get up, and cry himself to sleep? Why should he be plagued with nightmares and flashbacks of pain? Why should he have to constantly look over his shoulder, wondering where the next beating would come from? Why is he not allowed to be happy? Why is he not allowed to have people who love him? Why is he not - what did he do to become undeserving of love and affection? What did he do? 

It’s not _fair_. 

He sat up, pushing the covers off his legs and kicking his feet over the side of the bed. Why is this his life? 

He heard another little ping, and he let out a long breath. He didn’t even bother to gather his hope this time. He reached out and grabbed the phone, unsurprised to see another message from Dick: ‘Where are you?’ Of course, he wouldn’t ask if Jason is alright. Of course he wouldn’t ask if something went wrong. Why ask if you don’t care? No, no. He’s just bothered Jason hasn’t come running. He’s just upset he’s being forced to wait. How dare Jason make them wait? How dare he create any sort of hiccup in their perfect life? 

Blasphemous. 

Jason opened the messages and sent back a quick, ‘On my way.’ Can’t keep them waiting, after all. 

He exited his house, not bothering to lock the door. He quickly got on his bike, and didn’t bother to strap on his helmet. He was in a rush. A rush, as He began to drive away from the cave. Away from the cave, and away from Gotham.

**Author's Note:**

> So honestly I was in a Mood and wrote this :) I like to think Jason started a new and happy life away from Gotham and the night job.


End file.
